Ashes of Paradise
by wordsofcontentmentandsoli
Summary: A tale of true love and passion.


Ashes of Paradise  
  
The smoldering ashes of the red light-district in Diagon Alley, gave the smoke an eerie tone as it drifted up into the crisp fall air. The smell of sulfur was pungent in Voldemort's nostrils. Small tears spilled out of his snake like eye and crept drown his cheek to settle on the tyrant's cloak. The rosy fingers of dawn caressed the pasty completion of the dark lord's face seemingly frozen in misery. He pulled his collar up against the early morning chill. The red embers gave way to blazing red hair. The hot white ashes, to his passion for her. The scene of chaos that spread out before him was only a painful reminder of his failure to hold his ideals up to the beloved mudblood of his past. With great loathing he turned to the sniveling, emotionally broken man behind him. "Malfoy," Voldemort hissed, trying to restrain his own grief. "Yes my Lord?" the man responded, in a barely audible whisper. The emerald cloaked Lord cleared his oily voice. "We must forget this. The evidence has been cleared. The plague of uncivilized mudblood passion that has tortured many an innocent man's soul has reaped a life of despair. It is not for the pure of blood to mourn over such a bitch of a loss." Angry because of his own loss, Lucious muttered under his breath. "Fuck that." "I wish I could." Voldemort replied wistfully, holding back tears.  
  
Arthur Weasley's mother's plates rattled every time she yelled. "God damn it Arthur you bastard" she said sweeping down the stairs. Her breasts were heavy and her stomach swollen by pregnancy. Why did she have to be so damn different than in his bedchamber? "Bastard? You gave birth to two of them and you're damned pregnant with another god-forsaken bloody brat." "At least they aren't your offspring." She replied haughtily tossing her silky red hair behind her. Turning away from him, he was given full view of her curves. "I'm never going to forgive you for taking me away from my home." she spat. Arthur grabbed her arm and spun her toward him. She always made him feel like a wanton bully. "You're home," he emphasized, "was nothing but a whore house. I rescued you from a life of disgrace." Her voluptuous bosoms rose in defiance, rage flared in her eyes. It made her look even more seductive than normal. "At least I could enjoy myself. Being with you makes me wish I was dead a thousand times. You were just an easy way to make some quick cash. Getting a galleon out of you was easier than convincing your cousin that he was my favorite lover." Her face gave way to sorrowful memories. Her arm became limp in his grip. She couldn't still be thinking of the other one. Arthur let go of her slender pale wrist. Her expression of forlorn reminiscing cooled his temper. She did have that effect on him. Arthur took off his glasses and rubbed them on his shirt. The living room around him a blurred world. "Bloody hell Molly," he began, putting his glasses back on. "You know I'm just trying to take care of you." Molly gave no reply. Now staring icily at Arthur's ugly yellow carpet. "Common Moll. You need someone to take care of Will, and Carley." Molly made a gagging sound. "Bill and Charlie." Arthur waved his mistake aside "What ever their names. I know I don't have much money," he pulled Molly into his arms her bloated womb between them, and continued. "It'll be alright. Once I get my job at the ministry, we can get married, and I'll get this whole mess cleaned up." As Arthur rattled on about his plans for the future he didn't notice Molly's face redden in repugnance and the purest of loathing. "Come on Love." Arthur pleaded tilting her head back to look at him. "Let's have a tumble and call this argument officially over." Molly didn't have time to protest before Arthur's mouth was on hers and his hands unbuttoning her dress.  
  
Lucious sat alone in the grand salon of his home with his head in his hands, brooding, contemplating what had happened. He'd been brash about the love affair when it started. The number of galleons he freely gave for just one more hour, just one more moment was beyond counting. Of course nobody had asked where he was going, but more out of jealousy than of the taboo of keeping such things silent. "Mistress Molly" was only a dream to most of the young men who passed through the "Gates to Paradise", as that place had been nicknamed. Molly had been one of the high-end bitches, giving her services only to those who could pay handsomely for them. The first time Lucious entered the gates he had been awestruck by her exquisite curves. Expecting the more expensive lovers to be pureblood, he'd dumped the bag of galleons on the bed and spent the first of many such nights in ecstasy. When he found out after a few weeks of visits that she was a hell-begotten mudblood, he'd been appalled, but his need for "The Mistress" had overcome him. He succumbed to the pleasures she gave and continued to see her. His affair with Molly even lasted his engagement with his new wife. But that was when it all went wrong. Molly had too many clients. One in particular that she flaunted. "Bloody hell" Moaned Lucious. He still needed her. His loins pulsated with want, but what the hell was he supposed to do about it?  
  
Molly stared at the form of Arthur Weasley sleeping content and naked on the floor. The sight disgusted her. Arthur was such a skinny nerd. She still couldn't quite figure how he'd gotten her away from the Gates. He was a poor lover. Nervous and always seeming to turn impotent when she was at her peak. Of course she told him she understood. The experience of a lover never had been what Molly looked for in the qualities of a man. Money was always the best quality. Her mother had told her that, and it was something Molly firmly agreed with. Weasley paid well. Who knew where he found the money, but it was always there. (Maybe that was how she'd been lured away, looking for some nonexistent fortune) With another glance of disgust at the sleeping man, Molly bent awkwardly to retrieve her clothing. She was at least six months pregnant with child, although she wasn't quite sure went it happened exactly. This one and Charlie she was almost positive of who the fathers were. Bill, she thought as buttoning the last on her dress, who knew? More truthfully, who cared? She was all Bill, Charlie and the coming one would ever need. No scrawny, clumsy, damned bloody Arthur would change that. Molly sighed and walked away from the naked man's dozing form. She felt sick enough by being pregnant no need to make it worse. She went into the kitchen and lit a cigarette to cool her nerves. After a few minutes Arthur's voice floated into her head. Smoking is bad for the baby. "Fuck you bitch." Molly mumbled to no one specific and put out the cigarette. It was because of Arthur she'd started smoking anyway. Molly took a cake out of the pantry and cut a slice. Recently eating was her way to counter smoking. Indulging herself with a rather large piece, she looked out the window above the sink. All Molly could think of was how much she hated that Arthur's "perfect" life really was her only way out.  
  
A touch of words about not copying  
  
These Characters are indeed (duh) based upon the imagination and blah, blah, blah of the (some adjective like illustrious) J.K. Rowling. Thanks to her creations, blah, blah-blah, blah something about greatness and tributes to society. 


End file.
